


Protective Instincts

by jest_tal



Series: Juxtaposed Points in Time [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jest_tal/pseuds/jest_tal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some jobs were not meant for Asari Justicars who attracted the eyes of most humanoid beings even when standing perfectly still. </p>
<p>Some jobs were meant for an assassin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The oceans of Kahje held such a vast amount of life that it sometimes seemed too plentiful to be completely catalogued. It was not uncommon to hear in the daily news reports that a new species had been discovered or an evolutionary off-shoot uncovered.

Within such a variety there were, of course, differences. Size, mode of locomotion, method of consuming food. A variety that encompassed everything from creatures of the depths creating their own light to creatures of the shallows taking short flights into the empty air.

Yet it was very rare to find any creature that didn't look as if it had been made by the same flowing hand as its other planet-mates. Survival in an ocean encouraged its own sort of template and it was one of graceful curves and flowing contours. Protrusions were based on arcs rather than angles and even the antennae or feelers of the bottom dwellers were at least off-set by rounded claws and bodies.

The Drell were not of Kahje. Arms, legs, noses. All horribly inefficient for swimming. All lines. It was a difference that was observed rather than commented on. As a very young man, Thane Krios had been rather taken aback when confronted with the ship that was to bring him to his first assignment away from his home world. A refurbished Volus cargo ship, the Open Hand had been built on rectangles. Sturdy. A rock when everything Thane had ever really known, at least directly, had always been touched somehow by water.

He got used to it.

In time, he rarely thought of it anymore. Even if he'd been unprofessional enough to seek out transports that reminded him of home, it was a near impossibility. The Hanar had few ships and those they had built for themselves alone weren't designed for Drell comfort in mind. Thane quickly became a connoisseur of the renovated, the out-of-date, and the flying death-traps that were the staples of under-the-radar travel. They frequently stank, were often riddled with condensation problems, and were invariably loud and slow. Exploration of their depths, mapping duct-works and preparing escape routes as was his trained habit, gave him an easy affinity with them that amused him more often than not.

The SSV Normandy SR-2 was nothing like those ships. She was built on lines, but they were lines that moved, drawing the eye from one point to another. Thrusters were flattened, reminding him of flippers and the tower at the back reminded him of a dorsal fin. He would not say that looking at her reminded him of Kahje, exactly. It was clearly a human vessel and bore its creator's stamp undeniably. However, it had a familiarity to it and he found that faintly, but notably, pleasing.

Normandy's interior was just as agreeable as its exterior. It was bright enough to cast away shadows but not forbid them entirely. It was clean and neat without smelling of antiseptic. The air, at least in Life Support, was dry and soothing to his lungs. Since coming aboard, he very rarely found himself waking, gasping for the oxygen that his body was slowly tiring of fighting for.

Perhaps that was why he hadn't yet mapped out all the ducts to the point of boredom.

As he shrugged on his jacket he imagined that he'd reach the limit of where he could, in good hospitality, go tonight. He could have hacked, by-passed or slipped his way into secured areas but he was reluctant to do so without specific need. Still, it was late. Most of the crew was asleep and Shepard was off-ship. The opportunity was there and one did not ignore it. Besides, his meditations were strangely less than soothing tonight and action was better than idleness.

They were docked at Omega, a station he had visited more than a few times. The last was to assassinate a woman dealing tainted and exceptionally addictive red sand. There'd been rumors that Aria T'Loak, self-styled but uncontested ruler of the station, had been financing the human. She knew about almost everything that occurred on her station, and while Thane had not been seen, someone had hinted that a Drell might have been involved in the execution. It wasn't the main reason that Thane had wished to sit out this expedition but it was the reason he'd been prepared to give Shepard had she asked.

She had not asked.

Hours earlier she had left the ship with the Justicar Samara and Garrus Vakarian. From what Thane had gathered, the Justicar had heard that the criminal she'd been tracking on Illium was aboard the station. It seemed slightly odd that they should be delaying the mission to retrieve the IFF from the derelict ship just to capture a murderer. However, Thane couldn't really protest the tangent. He wasn't a hypocrite. Shepard had taken him to the Citadel only a week or so ago and allowed him to try to guide his son to a brighter path than his own.

It was a kindness that he did not take for granted, even if it hadn't been entirely unexpected. A woman who would let repentant mercenaries go free and calm hysterical civilians rather than remove them had at least a higher than likely chance of granting a dying comrade's wish. He was a comrade by now, of that he was certain. It was rare that the woman in N7 armor wasn't flanked by a turian on one side and a drell on the other when she left the ship. They made a good team and though he was more used to working alone there was certain symmetry in it. Shepard had a habit of charging forward, preferring closer encounters that brought her into the heart of the fight. Explosions and gunfire. She was the red flag that drew the enemy's aim, Garrus was the long arm that picked off targets at a distance, while he was the knife they never saw coming from behind.

He'd held her safety in his hands any number of times now, just as she had his.

Comrades. Certainly.

They had spoken, too. The only other one who actually sought him out in Life Support was Yeoman Chambers. Kelly, as she'd requested he call her. He would hear the sound of the door opening only to sense Shepard striding up to him. She had a purpose of step that wasn't unprecedented in his experience but there were no other females aboard this ship, at least, that matched it. Yeoman Chambers sauntered.

Shepard … advanced.

It wasn't quite the right word but he was still watching after all. He'd find the exact nuance he meant soon enough. In any case, those steps heralded interesting conversations and a give and take that seemed almost too easy. He spoke of the planet he'd not seen in years now and she spoke more quietly than he was accustomed to hearing from her elsewhere.

He'd wanted her to help bring Kolyat back because of those conversations. Not because he'd wanted her gun. It was, in retrospect, a very good thing he had gotten the gun though as well. While he probably would have succeeded in stopping his son before he did something he couldn't undo even without Shepard's help, he had no doubt it would have not gone as well.

Thane smiled. Impatient but not imprudent. She had hardly waited a beat before she was shooting the display down and punching a shocked Kolyat across the face. Without that, without her connections with Captain Bailey, there wouldn't be this fragile new understanding between him and his son.

_Sunlight on light skinned child, raising his hands up, "Pick me up, Daddy, pick me up!" while she laughed and watched them from the doorway…_

He understood the need to finish things. He did not begrudge the Justicar her right to have Shepard assist. Yet, that was the main reason to be glad to stay aboard the ship, even if watching the trio stride out had felt vaguely inappropriate. He did not yet know whether the Justicar's morals extended to righting the wrongs of an assassin's past. He'd rather delay finding that out as long as he could.

He got in the elevator and chose CIC. The ride up, which always seemed to go slowly, was lost in the memory of what access points led where. There was one along the port side that had a branching, but he was certain it led up into the Tech Lab. The aft-starboard-aft- port-port-down-fore path was more promising. The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out.

There was always a crewman manning at least one of the consoles in CIC. The ship flew, even at night, and even at port the watch had its place. Thane wasn't surprised to see Crewman Hadley, leaned back in his chair. That Hadley was paying a great deal of attention to a female by one of the terminals was deemed only unusual for the split second it took to process several realizations.

Firstly, that the woman was almost half-naked. He couldn't tell for sure from this angle, but since the shirt she wore seemed to lack a back, leaving everything beneath the dark collar at her throat down to the curve of her backside bare, it had to be at least twenty-five percent. The netting that was worked in her pants he counted as 'non-clothing' as well.

She was also typing into Commander Shepard's private terminal, body language unbothered and unhurried.

Ah. While there was at least one other woman with hair about the same color who might possibly have a reason to do that, Thane never once made the mistake of thinking this was Yeoman Chambers.

Commander Shepard it was, then.

He could see why this warranted Hadley's attention.

"Hadley," Shepard's familiar voice was tinged with wry amusement and iron.

Hadley straightened up, sharply, "Uh, yes Ma'am?"

"Your screen is in front of you. Not on my shirt."

"No, Ma'am! I mean, yes Ma'am!" the crewman's face was a study in human mortification as he spun back to his station. Thane's lips pulled upwards. Now he was curious.

"Shepard," he announced himself.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She'd done something to her eyes, colored the area just beneath them almost like a drell's. Much thinner, though. Perhaps a line or two. Eyeliner, that was what it was called. "Thane," she nodded, "You are up late."

"As are you," he walked over. There were scars on her side. A light webbing of them that blended in well until one got closer. Ah, there is where the shirt started. Just along the ribcage. Feminine curves covered, though by material that was very tight, and the dramatics of a completely bared back as an off-set. Mystery solved, he looked back up at her.

She was looking back at him, her eyes somewhat narrowed. She raised one brow. Waiting. Daring?

"I take it that the Justicar has found her quarry?" Thane prompted placidly.

Shepard exhaled as she apparently let him slide. She looked back to the console and started to log out of her messages. "Yes and no. We know that Morinth is in one of the nightclubs. The easiest way to draw her out is to give her a target." An impression of a smirk touched her mouth, "Hence the clothing."

"I'm not sure I understand," Thane admitted. "Why would you be a target for an asari criminal?"

"Because Samara thinks so?" Shepard offered and then turned to face him, arms going over her chest in a professional manner that had distinctly non-professional results considering her anatomy and clothing. Still, she elaborated, "Morinth is something called an Ardat-Yakshi. She seduces people and ends up killing them when they join. She just recently murdered her most recent victim. So, theoretically, she's looking for another."

"I see," Thane said and paused a beat. It felt like he should say more. "I'm sure you'll make a very tempting target," he said formally.

She laughed a breath, "Thanks for the reassurance. I just hope that she's at the club tonight. If I've got to go out more than once to wait for some asari to invite me back to her place, it'll get tedious."

He cocked his head to the side, "Invite you back to her place? To minimize the risk of innocent civilians getting caught in the cross-fire, I take it?"

"That's the plan," she straightened up and dropped her arms. "Morinth invites me back home, Samara trails us both at a safe distance, then charges in to take her out."

"And if something happens to delay the Justicar?" Thane asked, growing uneasy.

Shepard shrugged, "I'll just have to play it by ear. I'm not exactly attracted to asari and I can take care of myself."

"That's not a matter for debate," Thane assured, "but you aren't armed." He didn't have to ask about that. He could tell.  
The Commander nodded, "It's not ideal, I agree with you, but she's been hunting and killing people for four hundred years now. She hasn't gone uncaught by being careless and we can't risk her pulling back because she sees a gun on me. Easy target is the goal."

A crowded club. Loud music. A canny predator. The advantage of knowing the city. The disadvantage of having an almost painfully direct and shining asari Justicar trying to surreptitiously trail.

Following a target meant deception. A willingness to fade into the background. To be something that did not act but reacted.

He … did not believe that Samara could do this.

And he did not believe that such an old murderer would not take precautions.

Thane stayed silent for a long few moments.

"Anyway, I should go," Shepard said. She tucked hair back behind one ear.

"Of course," Thane said and reached into the sleeve of his jacket, "Take this."

She blinked and reached out slowly for the blade, almost impossibly thin in its sheath. "It's… I've never seen anything like that."

"It is unique," Thane nodded. "It is also difficult to wield. Since it was forged so thin it is more whip than blade. There is no proper hilt, only a place where it has not been sharpened. Wrap your hand in cloth, if you can, or it will cut you even as you use it." He gestured, indicating her clothing. "I'd recommend along your belt line, just in case, but you can place it up your sleeve as well."

She looked up at him and smiled "Thank you, Thane." She was pleased.

"You are welcome, Commander," he inclined his head.

As she turned to walk back to the hatch he watched her tuck the knife away.

He waited until the airlock cycled before making his way fore as well.

Then he began following her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane makes good on his plan to follow Shepard.

It was a delicate bit of timing. Thane stood by the hatch and counted the seconds, eyes briefly closed, as in his mind he let Shepard walk down the docking corridor. One yard, two, three. It wasn't a long corridor, badly lit and subject to steam leaking from various pipes. Being seen wasn't as much a concern as being heard was. The station was loud, inadequate insulation in the walls often allowing sound to jumble up and echo in odd ways. Given where they were docked, he'd have to let her get at least two-thirds of the way to the inner doors if he wanted to be certain she wouldn't hear the hatch of the Normandy opening again behind her. Two-thirds but not much further if he didn't want to be too far behind to follow once she was out into the station proper. Omega often swallowed people whole and even he couldn't always find someone again once it did.

It was odd just how determined he was to not let the Commander operate as an unprotected target tonight. Perhaps it was simple boredom, of a sort. While he had no lack of testing his skills in open combat of late, there was a distinct lack of stealth in any part of this mission. Stretching himself by evading not one, but three trained sets of eyes, was certainly a challenge enough to have piqued his interest.

Perhaps. But it was his resolve that had been piqued as well.

Her shoes, heeled boots made of flimsy leather with a scuff along the back, would click rather than clunk. Such footwear might unconsciously prompt a woman to take smaller steps and he was sure that the lack of weapons probably affected something in her gait, unconscious or not. However, he couldn't be certain whether she'd be walking quickly, goal-orientated, or languidly, cover-orientated. Shepard in armor or Shepard in uniform, he could predict with a comfortable amount of accuracy. Shepard in heels, however, was something entirely new.

_Slight smirk on her face but shoulders set firmly. One hand falling to the curve of her hip as she rounded the door to the hatch. Monitor light casting yellow-red down her back._

She'd walk quickly.

Not only was the Justicar waiting, but even more importantly Morinth was waiting. Every moment the Commander wasn't there to draw her potential attention was a moment someone more innocent might.

Thane opened his eyes and without pause started the hatch cycle. The moments it took to run had been factored into his wait and as he stepped through he looked for Shepard. She had just reached a little past where he'd expected and she never looked back as she made the turn for the interior.

The scent of the station, the acidic tang of sweat and pheromones from disparate biological life forms coupled with rock and metal, filled his nose. The first steps on any planet or station were like that, the initial rush of a different environment was always strong, soon fading as senses acclimated. Omega's presence was stronger than most. The life support filters on the hollowed asteroid had been originally designed to handle the larger particulate matter that the mining had thrown up into the created atmosphere. Those ancient smugglers first making use of the space had survival, not luxury on their minds. Granted, as the years passed and the revolving door of illegal owners came and went, there had been likely hundreds of upgrades or repairs done. It was doubtful that any of them had been documented properly and as a result, even if one had wanted to do a full overhaul it would be impossible. Who knew what system tied in where, what components were used to cobble this or that? Besides, it worked.

Omega was not a place that needed to smell good.

Omega was home to about 8 million people, all crammed into a maze of tunnels and central structures haphazardly cut into a rock about 4 ½ km long. Miles of corridors, pancake architecture, with no central repository of plans except for an aging human woman named Hannah who had a ramshackle collection of data pads, paper maps, and schematics that one could rummage through if the payment was good. Such chaos had its challenges when it came to trailing a target but he'd followed a mark through much worse.

He was fairly certain Irikah had done it on purpose too, just to annoy him.

The memory flitted but he resisted the urge to allow it to flow over him. Later. For the moment, for the now, he had to focus on Shepard. His wife would wait for him and a more appropriate time, as she always had and always would. The Afterlife loomed ahead of him, a somewhat ironic thing to note considering, as he passed through the doors onto the pseudo-promenade that marked the station's welcome to guests. Music and the low murmur of people talking. Towering buildings off in the distance but a nicely containable area to work in.

The drell slid to the left of the door with such grace that the asari and human male talking amid the crates there barely noticed him. He angled his body, mimicking an interest in their conversation, an inclusion that wasn't his, even as he took the time to scout the milling group in front of the club. Though he didn't expect to find her in line, he was thorough and checked with a flick of the eyes only. He'd learned last time that the Afterlife seldom made females wait to enter. They were part of the draw for the males and those males, one could argue, were the customers that the establishment particularly catered to.

No, she wasn't in line. However, neither was she walking up the steps to the club nor were the doors swinging closed.

Unexpected but not quite enough so for alarm. Thane's expression remained calm, perhaps faintly curious as he began to look around. He focused on the right, the layout of the area at the forefront of his thoughts. There was nothing much to the left except transportation that lead to other hubs and he highly doubted she was over there. The club was here. She had no reason to go to an entirely different neighborhood. Of course, if he couldn't spot her within a few minutes he may have to expand his searching.

Unnecessary. One of the many benefits of that shirt was that her skin made enough of a contrast to the rest of her clothing to serve as an impromptu flag. She was making her way towards the lower city and housing. He casually pulled away from the shadows of his wall. The path to the lower city was divided by a rather large section of pipes. He remained several yards behind and on the opposite side of those pipes from Shepard, moving confidently enough. If she wasn't going through the front, she was obviously heading for the lower levels or the VIP room. He knew where both of those locations were and felt that this, plus the fact that there was a set of double doors coming up, was reason enough to give her a little space.

A little but not too much. He'd been amazed too many times at the Commander's uncanny ability to find the innocent in need of help, the hopeless in need of blunt motivation, and the criminal in need of killing in even the most straight-forward of situations. What was truly odd was that she never seemed to really look for it either. The Commander merely walked by, asked questions, and ended up acting.

Yet another reason to be watching. The lower city held more than its fair due of all three of those types of people. Shepard's steel gaze and steady tone could sooth most troublesome situations but in places like this there were no guarantees.

A case in point. He was passing an unmanned store that had, last he'd known, sold various bits of salvage. Some distance ahead of him, Shepard was approaching a stairwell on the right side of the corridor, leading up to the back of the marketplace. The vagrant she walked by first, sitting in filth and staring, paid her no attention just as she ignored him. The vorcha gathered in a knot nearby were more attentive.

They watched her as she neared, grumbling under their breaths, egging each other on with the non-verbals of pack language. Prey? Entertainment? Something. Bravery wasn't a trait often associated with the species but unpredictability was. Thane was moving forward, more quickly than was strictly prudent, before he caught himself. They were just yapping among themselves. They weren't doing anything. Don't break cover for a non-verified problem.

The reminder of the benefits to patience paid off. Shepard was half-way up the stairs by the time he was at its base and the vorcha had a new focus.

He'd appeared rather quickly, after all and it disturbed them.

"What you want? Move! Go!" the one closest to him snapped.

"Our place. Go or we hurt!" the chiming was from the back, a challenge that both spurred on the group but also lay restlessly on their shoulders. A fight was something to be anticipated, but even Omega had rules about where and when they should happen. This drell was armed. This drell was quick. Thane raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture, even as his other fell to his hip and the weapon easily seen there.

At least three steps left until Shepard made the top and that's if she didn't stop to look behind her. The vorcha, unfortunately, were making noise enough for her to do so. He couldn't add his voice with its decidedly recognizable timber and flanging to the mix. He fell back a step, standing alongside the drunk now, completely shielded from the staircase view.

"I think they are talking to you," Thane murmured to the drunk.

The man roused himself and stared at him, shocked. The drell's words took a moment to pierce the haze but when it did the reaction was immediate. "But I'm not doing anything!" He protested more out of habit than understanding. Thane merely nodded to the vorcha, encouraging the man to focus on them rather than on him. The drunk did so, confusion becoming belligerence, "I was here first, I'm not goin' no where."

The leading vorcha sneered and began shouting almost immediately. Within his limited vocabulary he displayed surprising creativity and a clear yet surprising grasp of human anatomy. The drunk began to stand up and Thane reached to subtly angle himself around the man, using him as cover even as he crouched slightly and stole a glance up the stairs.

She was gone.

And by the time the vorcha had finished posturing for the benefit of the uncertain drunk, so was Thane.

""You must go in alone," the Justicar's voice was smooth and low. In some ways it reminded him of the clergy among the Hanar. A serenity in the velvet, a stability beneath the silk. That serenity was marred now, a thread or two of tension notable as she instructed Shepard. "Morinth will be watching. Like any predator she is cautious. You must pique her interest enough that she will approach you. When you are face to face, subtly encourage her to invite you to her apartment. I'll follow discreetly and when you are alone, I'll spring the trap."

That was the plan as Shepard had described, more or less. The Commander nodded and reached for her shoulder, rotating it briefly as if testing or stretching out the joint. It was a gesture that Thane had come to recognize, though he was still deciding what it meant. She did it often enough to be simple habit, but it also could have been due to particular pain or wear from past battles. Given her unique circumstances, it might even have been something less straight forward, like issues with whatever technology had been used to bring her back from the dead.

There was the impression that Shepard might have spoken then, had the Justicar given her the chance. Samara was too quick, though, urgency spurring her on. "Know this. Until I get there you are in great peril. She will be planning to inflict horrors on you. If you aren't careful, you'll want her too."

Knife. Pistol. Rifle. Biotics to throw the asari back if needed. He did not know the details of what an asari could do to a mind while joining or planning to join. Touch didn't seem to be needed but he was fairly certain that should he break Morinth against the nearest wall, matters would be at least interrupted.

"How can I spark her interest when I'm not even talking to her?" Shepard asked. A fair enough question. Thane thought that with the usual crowd of the Afterlife as contrast, she had a much better than average chance at doing that naturally though, without any coaching.

"Courage or suicidal bravery could attract her…"

Ah. Shepard definitely had nothing to worry about, then.

Thane listened as the Justicar went through the psychology of her target without pause. The familiarity with which she listed out the asari's habits, desires and weaknesses made it clear that the Justicar had thought about this Morinth for quite some time.

"…She'll want you the moment she sees you. The rest is just a matter of overpowering her caution."

There was a krogan, a young one with hardly any shoulder hump to speak of, walking down the corridor. Neither Shepard nor Samara appeared to notice him just yet and his path wouldn't intersect with theirs. Not an obvious danger, no. The Justicar and Commander were standing behind boxes, shielded by trash from general view. Still, voices could carry. They should be cautious.

"…she admires strength, directness and vigor. Modesty, chivalry or meekness will frustrate and bore her. Violence excites her. You've killed, Shepard. She'll like that."

"Getting her alone and then falling under her sway," Shepard noted, showing some sign that she was taking the Justicar's warnings to heart. "That'll require careful timing."

"I will be near and I will come for you, Shepard. Trust me as I trust and honor you."

Dark eyes studied the Justicar's face sharply, watching the slight widening of those blue eyes and the way elegant fingers were twitching, trying not to ball up into fists.

This was no simple reiteration of the plan nor was it calming reassurance.

The words from Samara's lips were a vow. An oath spoken by one who had reason to fear the reasons the oath was needed, given with all the fervency of a deathbed promise.

Thane's attention had been wandering. Not greatly but enough to entertain musings, not unforgivably for at this moment Shepard was perfectly safe after all.

No more.

"Let's get started," Shepard said grim determination the only identifiable thing in her tone. The Commander was ready.

"Shepard, we only get one chance at this," the Justicar was less composed, though it was only in her repeated cautions that she truly showed it. "Any mistake and Morinth will disappear. If you are the least bit unsure come talk to me. I will wait here." She shifted her weight, hesitating uncharacteristically, "And Shepard? Thank you. I do not share this burden easily and you are the only soul I can imagine sharing it with."

The drell allowed that, just perhaps, the Justicar wasn't so different from him after all. The Commander didn't say anything in return to Samara, though Thane assumed that there was some sort of non-verbal acknowledgement. Perhaps a gesture of support to go with a confident expression? Whatever that last interaction was, Thane didn't see it.

He was already too busy belly-crawling away from them, tucked behind and hidden by the curve of the massive pipes set against the wall directly across from them. Once the crates of trash served to block him from their eyes, he uncurled and slid out, heading for the doorway to the Afterlife.

Clubs, even dives in places like Omega, had more than one exit. Samara was staying outside this one, assuming.

Thane assumed nothing. Again, he followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard enters the Afterlife to try and draw out Morinth.

Red and pink light. Shadows and sound. While the VIP area of the Afterlife was clearly a part of the club, sharing theme, music and that garish central display vid, it was distinctly different from the other two areas. This was a place where only the invited came, exclusive and catering to certain expectations based on that. There was no upper level, no place for people like Thane to loom or watch. There were alcoves set along the side with lounging areas instead. People who had sought out privacy often sought it out to speak about things. Here, they'd be allowed that with a clear line of sight on others who might approach.

There were still dancers and dancing, a bar tucked along side. Thane found the darkest corner with the best view and his shoulders hunched casually as he took it. Just watching the dancers like a good quarter of the males in here. Nothing more.

The dance floor. It was a good place to start, or at least as good as any. Thane himself would have gone for a drink first but Shepard apparently had decided that being visible was more important than seeming suave. The drell watched her approach an enthusiastic asari woman (another good choice) and begin to dance.

The drell truly hoped that Shepard had more up her sleeve than that.

Not that it wasn't somehow satisfying to watch, if only on a purely ironic level. This was a woman who hurled herself over barriers with almost breath taking grace, traded out and reloaded weapons with heartbreaking efficiency, and she either didn't trust herself to freely move to the music or she actually did dance like a rhythmically challenged elcor.

It was almost … cute.

He walked to the bar after a few moments. There was no need to stand out by not having a drink in hand, especially since he didn't need to worry about encumbering an aim just yet. Shepard stepped away from her dance partner after the song ended, giving a jaunty wave and a broad grin as her thanks. She began to thread her way through the dance floor and Thane, like the opposite point on a compass, moved to subtly to anticipate her path.

A knot of activity caught his attention at almost the same time it caught Shepard's. A club dancer, dressed in the dark glittering red of fabric and paint, was gesturing rather angrily at a turian. Thane didn't hear what was being said. He didn't have to. The turian's sneer was plain enough and he was gesturing his intentions.

Shepard's intentions were displayed in the straight-forward way she angled herself into their conversation, unapologetic and authoritative. It was in the set to her shoulders and the subtle shifting of her weight. Ready. Professionally and fiercely ready, despite the blandness of her expression. Of course, that didn't mean that the turian was smart enough to see it.

The drell didn't close in but he did scan the crowd. Shepard could take the turian, he wasn't concerned about that in the slightest. As long as there was no ganging up, he didn't expect her to even be touched in return. However, she was making a scene. It would be interesting to see who was paying attention to that.

In the end, the turian was on the ground, the dancer was appreciative and Shepard had not even broken a sweat.

Also, Thane was no longer the only person watching the Commander.

Morinth. If there'd been any doubt about her identity, there was none about how she moved. The tall asari was dressed in black but it wasn't the coloring that let her cross from one side of the room to the other so unobtrusively, it was a predator's instinct for using the cover of her surroundings. She didn't walk; she flowed, quick and subtle. She even plotted, planning it so that when Shepard passed by a certain pillar, the asari was already waiting there, languid and mysterious. Thane, three yards away, around the pillar on the right, had to admit he was somewhat impressed.

He had also noticed the resemblance between the Justicar and her criminal target. Suddenly Samara's investment in this situation seemed all too clear. He'd acknowledge the pang of empathy that fact inspired later.

Morinth took her prey to a table, off to the side and isolated. There she leaned back against her seat, one arm spread out along the top of the booth and watched Shepard while they talked.

They talked.

Thane watched.

He remained steady though he had to admit there was something inherently disconnecting about the situation. It was like seeing the targeting dot of a rifle on someone else's forehead, to watch Morinth regarding Shepard. To know that death was being contemplated. He was accustomed to contemplating it himself, of course, but to see the unfolding of it, the anticipation of it, in another...

To see a targeting dot on another's forehead.

Irikah. Again.

A flash of scarlet and blue near one of the entrances. Samara, it seemed, had either gotten impatient, gotten wise, or had assumed Shepard's success. To give her credit, the Justicar faded back into the crowd almost immediately, putting no pressure on the table. Good.

They hadn't been talking long when Morinth stood up, reaching out a hand to Shepard. The Commander had presented herself well, then. He wasn't surprised. The two women walked together, still talking as they went. It was very easy for Thane to slip out the door first. He was eighty percent sure that there'd be a cab to another neighborhood involved, and he wanted to make sure he'd be in a position to get one as well.

The cab driver he got was a portly woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties. Brown hair had likely had highlights in her youth but time inside a station and away from any sun had dimmed it to dun-colored blandness, just as any prettiness to her face had been long ago ground away by experience.

She did offer Thane a perfunctory smile, dismissive as it was quick, as he stepped into the vehicle and shut the door behind him. The model was at least twenty years old, the bullet resistant plastic that separated cabby from passenger yellowed with time. The springs in the seats creaked as he leaned forward towards the internal comm. system that would relay his voice to her. "That cab there, with the asari and human getting in? I need you to follow them."

She looked at him via her rear-view, skepticism written all over her face and in the rolling of her eyes. "Really? That's what you want?" He reached into his jacket and she straightened instantly. Fear for what he might be drawing, fear that was not a hypothetical but clearly experience based. "I'll do it! Don't get your undies in a bunch! Following we can do."

"It is what I want," he confirmed gently and slid several double-digit credits into the payment slot. "Please."

The cabby slowly relaxed as she watched the scanned credits tally up on her screen. She dropped her hand and began to put the battered vehicle into gear. "Hell," she said in relief and then smirked, catching her breath. They pulled into traffic a couple car lengths behind Shepard's cab.

Thane settled back but kept his eyes on the other car.

Moments passed in silence but some things were bound even to raise an omega cabby's curiosity, "So, no offense but a girl's got to ask. Why are you following them?" She waved a hand, "Feel free to lie if you like, if, you know…. You'd have to kill me for telling me the truth."

"She is my girlfriend. The asari is trouble. I want to make sure nothing happens," Thane lied very well when needed, and this wasn't even a deception far from the truth.

"Bad luck," the cabby noted. "Women. Can't trust a one of us can you?" She flashed a bright grin his way. If it hadn't been for the slightly yellowed teeth, it would have matched the mischief in her eyes and perhaps even been attractive. She turned back to the road. "Tell you what. If you've got about four more of those bills you just slipped me? I can make things much easier on you."

"I'm listening," the drell said, cocking his head to the side.

"Money first, handsome," she said firmly, eyes flicking back to the mirror.

One, two, through the slot. Thane held up the third and fourth bill to the plastic wall, incentive visible.

The cabby smiled yet again and leaned forward almost lazily to her dashboard. She flicked a switch, pressed a couple buttons and touched the receiver at her ear, "Hey, Benny, is that you in Sixty-Two out there?"

Thane raised his brows. She kept the connection open, letting him hear at least her side of the conversation.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she snorted, "Where are you heading anyway?"

They turned now as the cabby nodded and went on, "Damn. Wish I could afford that." She laughed, "No kidding! Hey, if my body got me gifts like that, I wouldn't be turning them down either. Have you /seen/ the view from one of those places?"

Signals were apparently optional. She didn't use a one as she pulled them into a higher lane of traffic, gaining the blare of outraged horns as a result. Thane looked to his right , to where Morinth and Shepard's cab was getting smaller in their view. Smaller but not disappeared, "Yeah. Well. Lookit," the cabby's voice was a little more serious, "Do me a favor and take them the long route? Oh, come on. Give them time enough and you might get a show out of it, right?" She looked up and gave him an apologetic twist of her features. Another moment and she must have gained Benny's cooperation for she straightened up, "Ah, Benny. You are a prince. Oi, and holler at me if they ask to go somewhere else, right? Yeah, I'll tell you why later. Honest. Thanks, darling." She tapped the receiver at her ear again, disconnecting the call.

Thane fed the last two bills to the slot and the cabby rolled her shoulders back, raising her chin in smug self-satisfaction. "Blue Digit Cabs, we do our very best," she quoted the advertising slogan sarcastically, grinning again.

"Let me know where I can send in my feedback for great service," Thane returned gravely.

They pulled up to a towering apartment building not long after and the cabby threw the car in park. Thane paid what the meter said he owed and stepped out. The woman leaned over the seats to call out the window, "Benny took them through Gatesville. You've got maybe five to ten minutes before they show up, depending. Make sure you take that asari by surprise, too. Some of them can be mean!"

"Thank you," Thane said, "Though, I hope it won't come to that."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me guess, you just want to be included? Men!" she rolled her eyes again and then pulled away before he could answer.

That was the problem with paying off people with large sums of money. People remembered you. It left a very big footprint that could be easily followed, the type he normally would not have allowed to happen. However, it was a trade off.

He now had five minutes to familiarize himself with the area and plan, and that was five minutes he had not had before.. He walked into the lobby and crossed over to the directory of the inhabitants that had been so thoughtfully provided.

Five minutes should be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trap springs on both Shepard... and Morinth.

His heartbeat was a soft double tap, marking out the time, the moments in darkness. Breath flowing in and out like waves against the pylons of his long ago home in Ennage.

"Amonkira guide... Arashu lend..."

The metal panel had been easy to remove. The bulkhead that formed the half wall between the living room and the bedroom of the apartment had already been prepared for such in fact. Within he'd found ammo for the assault rifle on the wall, a pair of heavy pistols and a cleared out space. Meant for her to hide in. Easy for him to use instead.

The door opened, a low chime announcing Morinth returning with her prey. It was a very low frequency, barely at his range, and very likely not audible to most races. Definitely audible to Asari, he was sure. A quiet way to set a door alarm that wouldn't necessarily be obvious when triggered. A way for the hunter to know when she might be hunted.

She was talking now. Soothing and providing commentary to the restless one, the victim, the bright light that had drawn her in this evening.

"...into dueling for a while. I love the moment you see it in your opponent's eyes. He knows you are the better and he's going to die..."

Stationary. His target was sitting down at that couch. Not the best angle. He'd have to cant out to get a line of sight angle. The statue would give brief cover, the opaque half-wall some obscurity. Not anonymity, however.

He needed to wait, anyway. The Commander was going to investigate this part of the apartment as well. Her instinct wouldn't let her leave corners untested, professionalism unabandoned despite the situation. He'd remain hidden until she was done.

"A gift from a suitor..."

Everything she had to say ended in death. He wondered whether she thought this was seductive to the killer Shepard was pretending to be. The killer Shepard was, in fact. It was a bad tactic. A miscalculation. Shepard was a killer but like him it was more of the body than the spirit. Training. Reaction to situations. Such statements would only disgust her. Shepard was a protector. Not a killer.

Faint tremors through the metal. The Commander was moving back. Back to hear about safety. The desire for it. The illusion of it.

He freed the panel and guided it down, slowly. Setting it on the plush cushion of the couch.

Morinth was moving. Had he made any sound in angling around the half-wall, that would have covered it. She sat down on the Commander's lap, smiling while her hand played with the human woman's hair, wrapping strands around and testing their texture.

He took out his pistol but didn't bring it up to aim. Not yet. Light reflected off of metal. Barrels were recognizable. The very act of readying to kill sent a tension through the air that could alert the wary. He had been trained to see shooting, any combat, a single flow. One did not begin the action until one was ready to follow through with it.

The asari trailed fingertips down the bare skin of Shepard's shoulder blades.

Thane shifted his weight.

"We've both killed you and I, but that's where the similarities end," Shepard's flat tone stopped the asari's liberties neatly enough. Thane smiled faintly.

Morinth stood and for a moment Thane thought there would be violence. The Commander's words were a stone wall where the asari had expected only acceptance. But no, after challenging Shepard to explain, Morinth simply sat down again. This time right beside the Commander, one arm proprietarily laid along the edge of the couch, just behind shoulders. Morinth searched Shepard's face, her expression oddly sweet in its confused entreaty. She raised her chin, soft lips offered with the purr of "Look into my eyes and tell me you want me. Tell me you'd kill for me. Anything I want..."

And Shepard's breath came slower, head dipping slightly like a dreamer's and her voice almost obscenely marred by slurring, "I want you. Kill for you. Anything you want."

_Amonkira, Lord of hunters, grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true and my feet swift. And should the worst come to pass…_

The pistol had no laser sight. He didn't need it to. Right at the temple, clean and clean through. She kept moving her head but minor deviation to hit between the smooth folds of sculpted skin twisting back along her skull would serve just as well.

"Shh, darling," Morinth was smiling, "Just relax and hear my words."

Shepard caught her breath, the sound of it startlingly loud. Horrors seen? Protest given? Either way she was swaying forward, towards Morinth. Brought closer on the current of the woman's voice.

Thane's finger tightened on the trigger, breath stilling for the shot.

If not for the memory of knuckles wrapped and a trill of lights chiding, the low chime from the door, followed rapidly by the hiss of its opening, would have startled him into jerking the trigger. As it was, his finger simply eased off. A fraction.

"Morinth!"

The Justicar used biotics to throw the Ardat-Yakshi across the room and glass cracked.

Mother and daughter spat at each other. Words and pain. Bitterness and resolve.

He heard it all but his focus remained narrowed. Keeping a line of sight while furniture began to orbit around the two was difficult. He did not abandon his shot though, adjusting constantly to keep it clear.

Samara had arrived but there was no guarantee the Justicar would win. She and her daughter were exceptionally well matched.

Even more, Shepard was standing at the side, remaining uninvolved. It wasn't like her. It wasn't a bad decision by any means. Given the power being thrown about, it was in fact rather prudent.

But it was not like her.

Moments froze, the two biotics locked together. It took a stalemate that drained them both to prod Shepard into action. No knife. No round house. No weapon.

Just a grabbing of Morinth's arm.

Just a pulling back.

Just enough to break it.

Biotics flared then died. The Justicar once more threw her daughter across the room while Shepard took staggering, wary steps back and... turned away as the death blow was delivered.

Turned away and exhaled an unsteady breath.

Samara wished to leave after that.

Shepard agreed without hesitation.

Thane, left with the cooling body of Morinth, finally took his finger off the trigger.

He arrived back at the ship several hours later. Disposing of Morinth's corpse had required a little more finessing than he was accustomed to. He very rarely put himself in a position of having to cover up the results of his activities, after all.

Then again, he very rarely gave inquisitive cabbies reason to remember him.

It was Omega. People were gunned down in the street every day and no one batted an eye. Even had he left Morinth where she lay and the cabby told her story of the jealous drell and the unfaithful human, it never would have led to any complications for him.

Still. There was no reason to not do things the right way. Sloppiness was a bad habit.

He couldn't justify the fact that he decided to walk the long distance back to the Normandy rather than take a cab quite as easily, though.

_Blue fingers, delicate nails, trailed down against pale skin. Languid, playful, possessive. Shepard stiffened her shoulders minutely but Morinth simply continued to smile…_

He… really hadn't liked that.

The hatch of the ship closed behind him, shutting him firmly away from the sight of Omega in the early hours. The sound of it was impersonal, mechanical, speaking of security and the comfort of safety behind strong metal walls.

Such inanimate promises did little to ease the subtle tension Thane still felt. His steps didn't slow as he entered the main corridor of the Normandy but instead became more purposeful.

There was a different crewman on duty. Matthews. He nodded to Thane but offered no further greeting than that. Since the drell was in no mood for conversation with anyone, it suited perfectly. The elevator was within view and his purpose was to get there, endure the descent down, and find his room.

He did just that and the drier air, noticeably less painful than that in the station near the end, was a welcome reward. He enjoyed it in for a few moments before walking to the worktable, sitting slowly. The humming engines displayed in the window across from him always made for a rather neutral view to use in seeking calm. He was no engineer to appreciate the beauty of its workings, but he could appreciate the beauty of its aestheticism. He folded his hands and leaned forward, elbows down.

Sleep would not be coming, even if he had intended to court it at this hour. His thoughts were too unruly, bouncing back and forth between memories, implications, and curiosities. He tried to meditate but it escaped him. His focus remained tugged outward. Blindly anticipating.

Which was why he wasn't entirely surprised when the door to the corridor hissed open. He opened his eyes and straightened slowly but didn't turn to her.

She wasn't advancing either.

She was hesitating.

"Do you need something?" he prompted quietly.

Combat boots thunked as she, given this invitation, crossed the rest of the way over. He twisted to look up at her, then. She was wearing the casual fatigues that she often opted for while on the ship, clean and neat. Her hair was wet as well. A shower then. A recent one or a long one?

"Do you have a few minutes to talk?" Shepard asked casually.

"If you wish," he gestured to the chair opposite him, noting her body language. Weariness propped up by remaining adrenaline or caffeine. She was smiling, friendly, regardless. Friendly but a little strained. "How did the mission go?"

"We caught her," Shepard said as if she'd been expecting the question. "It may not have been the smoothest op but we got it done."

He raised one brow.

Shepard didn't meet his gaze but looked off to the side as she gestured. "Maybe it was a little closer than I would have liked but it's still a win. We'll head on to Ilium tomorrow."

"It seems to be a win that has you up rather late," Thane pointed out. It was also a win she wasn't entirely comfortable with. He wasn't sure why he prodded her on that, except that he suddenly wanted her very much to admit it.

"Come on, Thane. It's not that late," she returned with light playfulness, deflecting, "Not for an old war dog like me. Besides, you are up too."

"So I am," he acknowledged.

She took his silence to mean something other than it did. A reproach perhaps. Her tone softened, apologetic, "Look, I didn't mean to intrude. It is late. Too late for me, at least, to get back to sleep. But I can leave if you'd like. Let you try with hopefully more success."

He watched her fingers twitch, the line of her shoulders drawn up hard, as tight as if she were still holding herself at attention.

Thane found himself thinking, not about whether he wanted her to stay or not, but about the fact that the last thing he wanted was for her to leave. "No," Thane shook his head, "Please stay. You aren't intruding. What shall we talk about?"

She eyed him, looking for polite deception, hidden annoyance, or perhaps even concealed tolerance in his face. In finding none, of those things, she began to relax.

So, finally, did he.

The End


End file.
